The Way We Used to Be
by Arcawolf
Summary: Once, they were on top. Once, the world seemed to be in the palm of their hands. Now? Now, they're just struggling to make sense of the mess their lives have become. Speculative Future Fic.
1. Spencer

**I don't own anything associated with Pretty Little Liars. **

**So, this is a speculative future fic, or peeks into how season 4B could go. In other words, events in these chapters will be affected by a lot of off-screen events (like in this chapter, Spencer discovering earlier that Melissa is running an 'Anti-A' team), which should hopefully explain any discrepencies between this and canon.**

**Oh, and this is my first fic in this fandom, so if anyone is OOC, please feel free to tell me.**

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**Chapter 1**

She remembers when she thought she knew everything.

The front door slams closed behind her, and she suddenly feels like a rat caught in a trap. Spencer takes a deep breath, trying to swallow down her nervousness, and marches right into the kitchen. Apart from her, there's only one person there, seated at the table, calm as can be. Spencer takes a seat, and stares intensely at the person across from her.

That person stares back, eyes cold and uninviting.

Finally, Spencer manages to speak: "How could you do this to me?"

Those cold eyes narrow, appraising her like one would a prize horse. "You know why."

"No, I don't!" she spits out. "Tell me."

It's a lie, of course. She knows why. Or at least what Melissa claims to be the reason. A small part of her wants to believe Melissa because sisters aren't supposed to lie and they're supposed to look out for each other . . . but Melissa had never been prime sibling material. And there have been so many lies told by so many people that it's impossible to tell who can be trusted.

"Everything I've done is to protect you," Melissa hisses.

Spencer grits her teeth and struggles not to reveal everything there and now because she still remembers when they thought Melissa was A.

"Bull," Spencer growls.

Melissa's expression doesn't change. "It's the truth, Spencer."

Spencer leans close, speaking so lowly that Melissa has to strain to hear her. "And pushing Aria off a train was supposed to _protect me_? You swore that wasn't you!"

"I was warning A to back off!" Melissa snaps. "Don't tell me you didn't notice that little Aria had it easy for a long time."

"Aria has nothing to do with A!" Spencer slams her hand on the table, making Melissa recoil in surprise. Even in defense of her tiny friend, she's not normally that aggressive. But lately, A has been going after Aria, and that means Spencer's protective instincts are always just below the surface.

Melissa scoffs. "Right."

She meets her sister's sneer with an equally venomous one. "It's funny that you're pointing fingers when you're the one the police are watching."

Melissa leans in dangerously close, as if itching to throttle her. "Someone's trying to frame me. You know that. I didn't kill Wilden!"

Spencer keeps her mouth shut. She's discussed it with the girls, and they all agree it's quite probable – almost certain - that Melissa's telling the truth (because A seems to have a hand in every murder in this town). Still, there's still a possibility she's lying. And Spencer can never let go of a possibility.

Melissa's eyes widens when Spencer doesn't say anything. "You can't honestly believe I did it," she says. "Well? Say something, Spencer!"

"I don't believe anything," Spencer says.

For a moment, there's utter rage scratched across Melissa's face. Then, it fades, replaced by smug confidence. It's probably an act, but it's still unnerving.

"Who were you working with?" Spencer demands.

Melissa says, "Now, Spencer, you know I can't tell you that."

"You're on my side, aren't you?" Spencer shoots back. "I don't see any reason why you can't."

Melissa leans back in her chair and weaves her fingers together. "Because some of us would like to stay alive."

"Like me?"

Melissa shakes her head, like Spencer's a toddler trying to prove an impossible fact. "Spencer, your story isn't the only one going on here. There's so much you don't understand."

Melissa stands. "And so much you won't get to know."

Spencer can only stare at her, shocked. She waits for Melissa to keep talking. But Melissa doesn't, instead she moves to walk away, and Spencer's temper flares. No. Melissa doesn't get to play keep-away with her information while A is haunting them. No way.

"Hey, get back here!"

Melissa keeps walking.

"I said get back here! I'm not done with you!"

Melissa walks into her room, and the lock clicks, but Spencer doesn't give up. She slams her hands against the wood, ready to tear it down with nothing but raw strength. It comes as a complete shock when she's grabbed from behind and hauled back.

Spencer struggles. "Let go! I'm not done with her!"

"What is wrong with you?" Veronica Hastings demands.

"Why don't you ask Melissa that?" Spencer snarls. "Melissa, I'll-"

She never gets to finish her threat, because at that moment, she's hauled into her parents room, and the door closes. At that, at being cut off from the source of her anger, she calms down. She hangs limply in her mother's grip now, breathing heavily.

"Spencer, what is the matter with you?" her mother hisses.

"Nothing," Spencer says. "I just need air."

She wrenches herself out of Veronica's grasp, and leaves the house with as much dignity as she can muster. All the while, her insides churn like the winds of a hurricane.

Closing her eyes, she lifts her chin skywards and bites back a scream, remembering when she used to have all the answers.


	2. Emily

**I don't own anything associated with Pretty Little Liars.**

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**Chapter 2**

She watches the waves, and remembers when she used to be invincible.

Once, the water had been her haven. Even when Alison was missing, even when Aria went off to Iceland and their clique had fallen apart, the water had been there for her. When she was there, splitting the surface with powerful strokes, it was like she had gone back in time. Because swimming never changed; because in a race nothing mattered except the people ahead of you and making your limbs move just _a little bit faster_. Because in the water, it didn't matter who your friends were, or where they were. All that mattered was you. And even when Aria had returned and the A messages had started, she had still taken refuge in the water; still assumed that there, she couldn't be touched.

But then came a rock. And some painkillers. And then she had to accept that wasn't true.

Sitting on the lake's edge, Emily rubs her shoulder. Sometimes, in quiet times like these, it still hurts. She can feel her body smacking into the rocks again, taking from her what she prized most. It hadn't sunk in back then, not until that one disastrous trip to the hospital, where she had finally been forced to accept that A had taken everything from her.

She sighs, and the sound seems to echo through her mind. She thinks back to how it all began, to Alison, the first precious thing that was, however temporarily, taken from her. Alison, with her shining blonde hair, with her heart-shaped face and secretive smile . . . Even though she had Paige now, she still – probably would forever– have feelings for Alison.

And a part of her hates it, because that just makes everything hurt that much more.

Stomach jumping nervously, she glances down at the note balled tightly in her fist. It could be a trick from A, she knows this – a big part of her expects this. But there's still that tiny bit of her that hopes, that prays this might finally be the day . . .

A twig cracks.

She stands and turns in one fluid movement, heart in her throat. She's on the balls of her feet, ready to run should the situation demand it, ready to fight if she has to. You never know what you'll need when you face A.

But it's not A who walks out of the darkness. It's one of the Redcoats, no surprise there, but in the thin light the moon offers, she sees a familiar face. The same one that has haunted her dreams (nightmares?) for months. Still, she doesn't let down her guard.

She speaks shakily. "Alison?"

The person, Alison or the Alison-imposter, raises a finger to their lips.

And just like that, she knows.

"Y-you're really here!" Although she had hoped for it, seeing her not-actually-dead best friend in front of still feels like being stabbed with an ice pick.

"Shh!" Alison speaks more urgently now, and Emily clamps up, even though she's bursting with questions on the inside:

_Where have you been? Why haven't you talked to us? _

_Who is A?_

"Emily, you can't tell anyone you've seen me. Even the others."

"Why?" She runs over, invading Alison's personal space. Once, Alison would have shouted at her for it, or else have responded with a little suggestive gesture of her own, but there's no trace of that now. In fact, Emily barely recognizes the girl in front of her. Alison, in her memory, had always been confident, proud, arrogant. Now, she just looks exhausted.

Alison shakes her head, and says, "A's everywhere, Emily. You can't tell anyone. It's not safe for either of us."

"But . . ."

"Emily, please."

Alison touches her face, and she melts into the warmth.

"Okay," she agrees.

In the distance, an owl hoots. She and Alison stare at each other, the silence so strangely loud. It's a cool night, yet Emily finds a nervous sweat breaking out all over her face.

"You told me to meet you," she says.

Alison bites her lip. "I wanted to see you again. You've had it rough, Emily."

Self-consciously, she rubs her shoulder. "Yeah."

Alison says, "I've missed you girls."

"We've missed you, too," Emily says. "But why me? Why not one of the others?"

Alison smiles and for the first time that night, Emily sees some of that mischievous twinkle she used to have. "Didn't I tell you, Emily: you were always my favourite."

Her heart quickens a bit, but that doesn't stop her from saying, "Alison, please, tell me who A is!"

"I thought I knew," Alison says, "but I was wrong. I've hurt so many people, Em, I don't know where to start."

"You have to have some idea of who's trying to find you!" Emily insists.

"I thought it was Mona, or the NAT club," Alison says, "but A's trying to kill them, too. I don't know, Emily."

Emily swallows back her fear. So, Alison knows as little as they do. The thought is terrifying, because ever since Alison revealed herself, they'd all been convinced that she was in control, that she was a guardian angel in the shadows. But the truth is she's not. She's just like them: lost and scared.

"I'm so sorry, Em," Alison whispers. They both know she isn't just apologising for not having the answers.

"It's okay," Emily says. "We . . . I . . . we're going to figure this out. We will."

She isn't sure whether it's just her imagination, or whether the world really went quiet. The already-small distance between her and Alison seems to shrink, until Emily is convinced that if she moves even just an inch, they would be touching. Suddenly, the silence is bursting with tension and unconsciously, Emily leans in, breath catching when Alison does the same. . .

And Alison pulls away, staring off into the distance.

"I have to go," she says.

There's so much that Emily wants to say, but all she manages to get out is: "Be careful."

Alison smiles sadly. "I should be saying that to you."

Then, Alison's running. Her red coat flares out behind her like a pennant, waving goodbye as its owner fades into the trees.

And just like that, Alison is missing again.

Emily stands alone in the woods, the moon high above her. The weight of everything she promised suddenly hits her, and she staggers with the load. They have to stop A, they won't rest until they do, but every time they seem to get somewhere, it all comes crashing down. A's like a god, toying with them for amusement, laughing at their feeble attempts to fight back.

She isn't sure if they can stop him.

Emily shivers as waves lap at the lakeshore, and remembers when she used to have faith in herself.


End file.
